The Stories We Tell, The Spam We Eat

Like most of us, I hit “empty spam” without a second thought. But the sheer length of the following story warranted a second look.

The beginning was barely intelligible. A thin narrative interspersed with lots of links to chaussures louboutin (near as I can tell a French seller of shoes like this one):


But as I scrolled down the spam stops trying to sell me fancy shoes, and instead tells me the story of a young man about to officiate his friend’s wedding. His friends are not very religious and think it would be very special for him to perform the ceremony (even if their parents don’t entirely approve). The friend is honored on the one hand (a lot of people say “I do” but not so many say “Dearly beloved”. But on the other he seems to be thinking about the impermanence of marriage in today’s society and how exactly he should talk about their union which many not in fact be forever.

A bit deep, especially for something I’m likely to ignore.

This could be a computer program. It almost certainly has been translated by a computer, as there are many words that are incongruous (or just plain funny). But I don’t think a computer wrote this story. I have a feeling this is someone’s real story, transformed, translated, and transmogrified into what ended up in my filter, but a real story nonetheless.

Below is the full spam (with links removed, and some commentary inserted). You might be surprised what makes you smile.

If you had asked me several months ago what I small amount on every side connection, I would make said, “I don’t imagine marriage.” [Don’t worry it gets a little clearer]

Then my baby [buddy?] John married. I rode in the heap with him to the ceremony. When we pulled into the bed’s parking grouping, we were 30 minutes behind schedule. I had been on the phone reassuring his bride, Kate, who was bravely fending afar a panic attack.

The valet asked, “You guys here in requital for the wedding?”

Reaching into the behindhand seat I grabbed my application in its preservative sleeve and the black leather folio containing the vows the a handful of had written, along with the readings and scattered notes in search the tirade [interesting word for a homily] I was to deliver.

“I’ve got the groom ethical here,” I said. I thumbed at John, who was peaceful in a basketball jersey with all his tattoos showing. One tattoo peeked in default the neck of his shirt, a large hunk depicting the Starship Vigour [Kirk’s name for the Enterprise] cruising at impulse.

“Congratulations,” the valet said to John.

“Thanks,” said John, who threw his crate keys at him and rushed toward the building. [A bit violent John especially after having been so relaxed]

“You the best man?” the valet asked me.

“No, the officiant.”

“The officiant?”

“I’m going to put together them — do the ceremony.”

“You’re the priest?”

No, I’m not a priest (a disclaimer I under no circumstances expected to have to make). I’m the baby [neat image, right?] they asked to couple them in consider of a priest.

Kate and John aren’t pious and didn’t miss their formality to be. They wanted it to be particular, and I, a less unusual 26-year-old, was to captain the generally fling, to the chagrin of their parents. But I did have at least inseparable obsession prospering because me as an officiant when it came to Kate and John: I had been there from the start.

I enjoyment these two. I attraction them as a couple. [set them up?] I fondness them individually. [this sounds strangely dirty] They met the summer in preference to elder year of extraordinary school at a game of Manhunt that we played in a angel’s suburban [that’s how I met my wife!] neighborhood. I call back that I was gratified with my hiding function, a winner care of a bush and next to a literal staircase [not a figurative staircase] , and that I was overthrow when the glint from my glasses gave me away.

Unquestionably I was forgetful to the more powerful games being played for everyone me. Kate and John exchanged numbers that tenebriousness [I believe the word you’re searching for was ‘night’] and got together while serene in lofty alma mater, and they’ve been together more or less for a decade since. After getting pledged in Brooklyn pattern year, they moved back to Philadelphia and bought a parliament not far from my apartment.

They asked me to oversee their wedding while we were all attending another pen-pal’s boozy union reception, and I said yes without thinking, mostly because I thought it would be a sumptuous feather in my cap. Most of us vex to brake at the altar at some moment and hint, “I do.” Occasional are tapped to disclose, “Dearly beloved.”

To provide for, I searched on Google in requital for how to be a material allying officiant. All things being equal you are theoretical to maintain previously those gathered and cement two souls together, but with the divorce valuation being what it is, “welding” is doubtlessly an sanguine metaphor. The conventional symbol is a fasten, which I liked because it gave me more freedom in terms of how definitely I would be expected to affix the souls. [interesting sentiment]

Quarter of your contribution in serving lash that bond is to articulate a infrequent words upon the yoke you are marrying and their relationship (no problem) as right as saying some arrogant things down coupling in general (a mess).

I grasp nothing around marriage. [neither do I buddy] The longest relationship I’ve had lasted four years and ended when I was 23. Not every now during its duration did amalgamation manifest itself to me, granting perchance it should have.

There are two sentiments against coupling you’ll sanction from certain 20-something wanderers like me. Either marriage is too momentous a proposition after them or they are too cynical anent coupling to grab it seriously. Either they are panic-stricken of how affiliation transfer limit their options or they contemplate you would be a fool to think that merger limits anyone’s options, so why bother?

This ends on a bit of a downer note, but I kinda want to know how the wedding went, and what he actually said when he got up front.

What do you guys think happened?


Filed under Writing

2 responses to “The Stories We Tell, The Spam We Eat

  1. Well the groom is a die-hard ST fan, so he is likely to treat her right …or at least until she stands in front of the TV during March Madness.

  2. The ceremony goes as planned. It was a wedding to remember; and the couple did, even 50 years later.

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